


The Corpse of a Roach, Stuck in a Lightbulb

by bible



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Adultery, Ahegao, Belly Bulging, Creampie, Dirty Talk, M/M, Power Bottom Raiden, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 03:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18770668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bible/pseuds/bible
Summary: There’s something like regret wriggling into him momentarily, but Snake pushes it out of his mind. The regret isn’t there for Rose, he doesn’t know the chick—but for the sheer fact that Raiden trusts him, has trusted him the whole time, and trusts him still. He feels that he might be taking advantage of this desperate, broken man half-drunk on unreality, but that all gets pushed aside when Raiden grabs him by his shirt and pushes him down on his back, throwing a shapely, impressive leg over his hips. He’s stronger than he looks.Obviously,Snake grins against Raiden’s gasping, hungry mouth,he learned from the best.





	The Corpse of a Roach, Stuck in a Lightbulb

                There are bugs shuddering in the cage of the fluorescent lightbulb, a strip of white glowing feverishly bright above the doorway. Raiden is on his back, staring at the flies encased in the glass, wondering how they got there, and wondering why he feels like one of them; entrapped, helpless, pinned under the unforgiving beam of a spotlight. His white limbs are spread languidly on the bed. Besides the rise and fall of his chest, his only movement is the slight flicker of his eyes as he tracks the silhouettes. Thinks of their shimmering little wings, their tiny, skittering feet, their frantic confusion. _That’s their life_ , he thinks, pale eyelashes blinking rapidly, _that’s all they know, and they’ll die this way, and that’s their world. No more, no less_.

                A stretch of inaction, Raiden’s mind roaring static. He doesn’t want to think, but what else is there to do? He doesn’t want to think or see the world around him, fearful that it’ll morph and glitch unintelligently, that the seams of reality will fall around him in clusters of pixels, that his own voice will come out virus-laden and distorted, crackling with radio eddies. A ruined transmission.

                Sealing his eyes shut, Raiden lays in his bed, sleep not coming to him, but he doesn’t want to turn out the light.

                Then he hears the sound of the doorknob turning, and his heart thuds in his chest, his upper lip warm and sticky with sweat. It’s not hot today, but the silent panic had him in the throes of delirium. He feels like he’s been running marathons.

                At first, he assumes it’s Rose. They’d managed to negotiate a deal—if the lights are on, peeking through the cracks in the door, come in, even at night.

                But it’s Snake who steps in the doorway. Raiden grabs the sheets in his hand, throwing them over his crotch.

                “Sorry, kid. Should have knocked,” Snake apologizes with a bit of humor coloring his voice, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. He surveys the barren room and then takes a seat on the one available chair, patting his pocket to feel out the pack of cigarettes. Cozies himself there with a spread of his legs, leaning back with a too-comfortable exhale.

Raiden’s stunned—he has no idea how Snake could have found his room, much less why he’d seek it out. Sitting up on an elbow, Raiden watches him silently, Snake placing the cigarette between his lips, eyeing him with that indelible blue gaze.

                Snake tilts his head after a moment, exhaling a stream of smoke that seems ozone-dark in contrast to the fluorescent light. Raiden’s eyes flicker to the bugs, back to Snake, and he feels his heart beginning to pound faster in his chest. His eyes go half-mast with lightheadedness.

_Are you real._

                “Whoa, you’re white as paper. I mean, even more than usual,” Snake stands up, putting a gloved hand against his forehead. There’s something relieving about the touch, the physical sensation of that rain-wet leather, no pain in it, not tender girl skin, just the stabilizing and firm hold, smelling of Kevlar and nicotine.

                “It’s raining outside?” is Raiden’s first, incredulous question.

                “Yeah,” Snake sits down on the bed, staring at him, “I wanted to check on you. After everything that happened, on Big Shell.”

                “You’re here?”

                Snake grunts out a noise of half-confusion, half-affirmation.

                “I mean, you’re actually here—and so am I?”

                Snake exhales a smoke-clouded sigh, understanding now, “I see you just like you see me. I saw the world independently of this encounter, walking through New York in the rain.” Something about the stability of Snake’s voice calms Raiden down. He takes Snake by the wrist and lifts his palm to his face, burying his nose in it like a dog. Snake lets him, thumbing at the hair over his temple that’s damp with fever. Raiden’s body shakes with soft jolts. Might be sobs, might be laughter—it’s a silent motion. When he pulls his face away from his hand, he sits up, kneels on the bed, and slides his arms around Snake’s neck.

                Snake looks taken aback.

                “Why’d you come here?”

                “I told you, I needed to check on you.” Snake slides a hand down his spine, frowning, “No ulterior motives. I didn’t come here with a plan—I was just…”

                “What, you were in the neighborhood?”

                “I don’t know, Raiden,” Snake admits, sounding older, tired. “Call it altruism. If you’re expecting a mission or a delivery or whatever, I don’t have anything for you. I just wanted to see you in one piece.”

                Raiden’s grip softens into something limp, almost defeated, “I’m doing fine.”

                “You’re sweating.”

                Raiden licks his teeth, eyes slanting, cat-like. The feeling of the cool leather on his spine, being so close to another person who isn’t Rose—it’s making him shudder. Snake tries to still his trembling form with both palms on his shoulders. Snake—he never glitched, he never faked him for anything other than Raiden’s own preservation. If he played mind games with him (and he did, as everyone did) then they proved to be ultimately helpful. Snake’s existence did not include the altering of reality. When Raiden sees Snake, he feels like the walls are solid around him, the solipsism dissipates, the world outside continues to go on. He is not entrapped within an isolated cell.

                He’s not the corpse of a roach, stuck in a lightbulb.

                Rearing up, he grabs Solid Snake by his cheeks, and presses his lips to his mouth, and maybe Snake was anticipating this, because his hands hold his hips, and his lips move back against his. They’re cold and smoky and Raiden takes the cigarette from his fingers, puts it out on the white sheets, burning an ashy stain on them, as if it matters at all.

                Flicking the stub to the floor, Raiden loops his arms around Snake’s neck again and hoists him closer, mouth falling open, pink tongue seeking out Snake’s.

                The security in reality washes over Raiden like rainfall. The breath and spit and teeth—all human things.

                “Every time I saw you,” Raiden gasps into his mouth, his breath too-warm, the press of his lips too-desperate, “I felt real.”

                Snake grunts when Raiden straddles his lap, when he rocks his hips against his civvies, when he pushes the jacket off his shoulders. “Your girl…” Snake’s protest is weak, hardly a protest at all.

                “She’s not here,” Raiden huffs, and the kissing becomes primal, animalistic, biting along Snake’s chapped, hot bottom lip, his jawline, “Make me feel real again, Snake.”

                There’s something like regret wriggling into him momentarily, but Snake pushes it out of his mind. The regret isn’t there for Rose, he doesn’t know the chick—but for the sheer fact that Raiden trusts him, has trusted him the whole time, and trusts him still. He feels that he might be taking advantage of this desperate, broken man half-drunk on unreality, but that all gets pushed aside when Raiden grabs him by his shirt and pushes him down on his back, throwing a shapely, impressive leg over his hips. He’s stronger than he looks.

                _Obviously_ , Snake grins against Raiden’s gasping, hungry mouth, _he learned from the best_.

                “You have to fuck me,” Raiden demands, nodding to himself more than to Snake as he seeks through his tiny dresser drawer for a single, half-drained bottle of lube. _Must be kinkier with that girl than I thought_ , Snake thinks, watching Raiden’s deft fingers wrest Snake’s pants down.

                Raiden’s eyes widen a fragment with either surprise or excitement when he hefts out Snake’s half-chubbed dick, flushed and dark, a warm and heavy weight in Raiden’s lily-white palm.

                “Pretty,” Raiden mumbles, almost hypnotically, and Snake has to stifle a laugh at that observation. He’s not sure he’s heard that one before. When Raiden pours a gelatinous line of lube over Snake’s dick, he hisses through his teeth at the temperature, one eye squinted. “Kid, I know the cold doesn’t affect _you_ much, but you’re supposed to warm it up with your h—”

                He doesn’t let him finish, his palm wrapping around Snake tightly, a firm but intense squeeze, and then he works the lube over his dick, eyes slanted with amusement, tongue pinched cutely between his teeth in concentration. Dips his head down and rubs his cheek against that pulsating flesh, like a kitten nuzzling a scratching post. “Do you like that?”

                Snake’s balls give a throb. Grunts when he’s released as Raiden shifts above him.

                Balancing himself his arm beside Snake’s head, Raiden works his hole open quickly with his other hand, eyes determinedly set on Snake’s face. His mouth drops open when Snake presses open-mouthed kisses up and down his forearm, tonguing one of the black bars of ink. One finger, two, an almost overzealous action. It’s too quick, too little preparation far too soon, but the need is eating at Raiden, an overwhelming instinct to take Snake inside him burning at his chest. And then it’s enough, his hole is gaping only slightly, but he can manage.

                Positioning Snake’s dick behind him, Raiden rubs his backside slowly against it. The smooth, wet head breaches his hole after a few misguided thrusts downward, and the heat of Snake’s cock enters him with that same feverish intensity of his panic. This is far more pleasurable though, and Raiden sinks down, lube leaking between them wetly.

                It hurts—of course it does. But the pain is temporary, and his head tilts, a smile crawling on his lips, too wide, too manic, at the more powerful sensation of being _stuffed_.

His tongue lolls out of his mouth as he takes Snake to the hilt, that hard, throbbing mass filling him so well (if not too quickly), pushing against his walls, making him part of another person, encasing Snake in that inner heat. He can feel it in his stomach, almost, and clenches around him, a motion that makes both of them groan. Pressing on his own abdomen, Raiden elicits a cry of “ _oh, fuck_ ” from Snake, who can feel the outline of those fingers from _within_ his body.

                “Big,” he murmurs, almost unintelligibly. He starts working his hips, too much, too rough, too fast, his face reddish and needy, and Snake holds his hips.

                “Kid—” he says, voice as gravelly as ever but punctuated by gasps, “You really need it, huh? I’ll give it to you…”

                “ _Ah_ —huh,” he nods, drool mapping a neat, slick line over his chin as he rides Snake’s dick, looking down at the flesh bulging in him, his asshole clenching around him, his own cock hard as nails but untouched, weeping streaks of precum. “Fill me up. Make me feel real. You’re so—you’re deep in me, it’s so good, _hah_ … Fuck me _harder_ , I want it to—to hurt…”

                Snake’s teeth grit and his gloved fingers dig into his hips. Pounding into him, Snake’s hipbones press insistently into the moon-white flesh of Raiden’s pearly, tattooed skin. Raiden hunches over him then, his back arching, eyes widening. Snake must have hit his prostate.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he gasps, and rides Snake like he’s trying to _bruise_ himself on his cock. _No_ , Snake thinks deliriously, _he’s not riding me—he’s fucking_ impaling _himself_.

                “Glutton for punishment, huh?” Snake buries his face in Raiden’s neck. He smells strange, like paper, and the cool mechanic air inside a computer. Bites hard, like Raiden wants him to, then sucks the flesh between his teeth.

                “Fuck— _yes_ —one…” Raiden’s speech is broken but rough, a gravelly kind of pitch that’s almost animalistic, a tone Snake’s never heard from him before. His cock feels impossibly warm, snapped in the tight band of Raiden’s hole, and he knows he’s about to cum, right inside of Raiden. “One day I’m gonna make it hurt so fucking good, you’ll see. You don’t… even know… how much I can make it hurt. It’s— _god_ —it’s gonna be the sharpest, best pain I’ve ever felt.”

                Snake doesn’t know if he’s talking about his cock or the HF blade anymore.

                “I want to be full, like this, all the time. Of _you_. Full of your cock, Snake—I like you so much, Snake—…”

                Snake seizes up, rolls them over with his cock still tucked snugly inside Raiden’s searing little hole, and pounds him against the shabby mattress with brutal thrusts, making Raiden cling and tense and cry out, shiny beads of tears collecting in the corner of those hungry eyes.

                Doesn’t stop Raiden from talking, though, “I’d take anything you’d give me, Snake. Snake, you don’t—you don’t know—how much I admire you, how much I—I want you. Fuck me, harder, _harder_. I want more.”

                Snake has no idea where Raiden’s gotten this from, but he wraps his hand around his cock, squeezing almost brutally, and Raiden cums over himself with a keening cry, throwing his arm over his mouth to stifle the noise. Those legs trap him though, encouraging him to keep pounding him throughout his orgasm.

                Raiden’s nearly delirious on the bed, his white, sweaty hair splayed messily over his forehead, eyes hazy, a sheen like a frosted window over them. His cheeks are pink, his tongue won’t stay in his mouth, panting like a dog. But more than the appearance is the intense satisfaction of being used like this, of being in control. Of getting Solid Snake to pound him into the mattress, who’s still over him, groaning shallowly against his skin, letting Raiden stroke his back, letting him cling with his thighs, beating his prostate into submission despite the spurts of cum already painting his belly.

                “Cum in me,” Raiden encourages softly, his voice back to that tired-but-no-longer-skeptical tone. He’s too lazy, sated, but he could stay like this forever, his hole kept open by Snake’s dick, no matter how much it hurts, those strong thighs bracketing his hips, another body telling him what reality is. “Fill me one more time.”

                And Snake does, with a hitch of his body, burying his cock as deeply as he can, until Raiden thinks he can taste the precum in the back of his throat. He spurts inside him, painting him white, body twitching with satisfied thrusts. Toes curled, Snake takes a moment to breathe over him, hand on Raiden’s firm, pale chest, observing him with parted lips.

                He makes a move to pull out and is stopped by Raiden, who tugs him down on top of him. He likes Snake’s smoky scent, his weight. Wraps his legs tighter around his hips, pressing his ass closer to him.

                “Stay in me.”

                Snake grunts his affirmation, cock already giving another interested twitch. They stay like that in the jaundiced light, sharing air, Raiden feeling very sane and full underneath him.

**Author's Note:**

> snake walking into raiden's barren prison cell room: damn bitch you live like this
> 
> this was a commission and my first mgs fic which was long overdue  
> anon, i hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> [take my carrd](https://bibles.carrd.co/)


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